Cross my Heart
by Swimming cutie xoxo
Summary: She feels as if she is alone in the world with a brother refusing to speak to her and parents who see though her. She veers of her path, chancing substances she once said no to and Blake follows. But how do you comfort someone without a reason to feel.
1. You guessed right

**Disclaimer: I do not own twilight. **

**As promised, here is Blake and Nina's story. I adore writing about Nina, and most of this story will be told in her POV. I warn you now, this tale will more then likely take a few dark twists and turns. This story is not all sunshine and love. But i urge you to read on, discover of Blake finally finds his true love. **

**Enjoy. **

"Talk to me!" I screamed at him as he walked out of the room.

Whipping around he said in a low voice, "I can't." He stressed every word with hidden venom and stormed out of my room, a slammed door confirming he was gone.

Running up to the barrier between us I banged my fist on the wood, releasing all my rage. Tears stung my dry eyes but never trailed down my face as they normally did. Sharp jolts of pain shot though my hands and wrists but it felt good, like all the emotional bullshit finally had a release after being pent up for the last two weeks.

Fourteen days, not even a long time when you think about it. But that didn't matter, not to Patrick when he shut me out of his life with no explanation.

Before the one big blowout I noticed small changes in him, emotional and physically. He began to look like a body builder, and he never lifted a weight in his life. He was temperamental and shook when he got angry. His rage knew no bounds. We fought over everything; from the boys I hung out with to what M&M's to eat first.

I watched as the brother I thought I knew but for sure loved change into someone I couldn't relate to. My once intact heart was shattered with his hurtful comments and bouts of anger.

He loved me a lot before, but now I am sure his heart only had room for a small sliver of that.

We were close, almost best friends. Since he was my big brother he played the role. Warding off unwanted guys, threatening the ones I wanted but he didn't see as fit and being my shoulder to cry on when they broke my heart.

Patrick was kind and caring before. His caring nature was diverted now, away from me and towards the other steroid using population of this dainty little town.

Sam Uley is the douche bag king of the Indian giant world. His loyal followers include;

Jared Howe – preys on small innocent teenagers until they are baring child, his child.

Paul Chandler – whiny guy obsessed with girlfriend who fled the country.

Embry Call – hot creeper who stalks a musician, a pretty talented one.

Jacob Black – baby lover/pedophile in the making.

Quil Ateara - Pedophile level 5, one more level and the police may have to be involved.

Brady – Complete wannabe who never seems to fit in even though he tries to no end.

Collin – A guy who cannot get laid and feels the need to tell me about it.

The list could go on but those are the only dipshits I bothered to learn the names of. Their activities are hardly hidden in school.

I have seen Jared walking down the halls like the fucking king of the place with the princess of dork-i-tonya on his arm.

Everywhere that Tara chick goes I swear Embry's shadow is lurking a few feet behind.

And everyone has seen the big guy moping down the halls like the world came to end just because his best friend's sister went away to school.

At the beach, Quil the giant and the kid I am sure he kidnapped are always playing with rocks. What kinda game involves rocks?

I've only seen Jacob Black a few times but each time he is with that strange little red head child. Do her parents just lend her out to every pedophile understudy in the state?

The other two are in some of my classes. Brady attends my English class; he sits in front of me. Dumb as a pineapple. He asked how to spell the word 'did'. Three letter word you lean in grade one, genius.

And Collin is my history partner. He uses that wonderful class as free therapy, explaining his blue ball problem to me even when I am clearly not listening.

Patrick started to spend time with those guys more and more. I tried to ask why but all I got was the silent treatment with an added glare.

I have heard the nasty rumors about them. The only La Push gang, the drug dealers of the res and every other thing the student body could come up with. My feelings for them remained neutral with every whispered rumor that found my fears until they stole my brother.

Those bastards set off a chain reaction in my house. Patrick was not the only person to change, grow distant under this roof. My mother and father became quiet and withdrawn. They removed every restriction on Patrick's life, treating him with more respect then any teenager deserved, to the point where it resembled fear.

I know they are keeping something from me. They stop talking when I walk into a room so that awful awkward silence suffocates me. They share the sideways looks, the strange hand signals and the whispered comments I can't make out.

I haven't had a real conversation with either of my supposed loving parents since that one big blow out. Two weeks of no communication and I want to scream. Yell at the top of my lungs. Screech that I am important too. Shriek that I am not invisible and I have feelings. Shout to the sky and ask what I did wrong.

Curling my fist to flex my sore knuckles I drew my red hands away from my door. I didn't expect my parents to come see what was wrong, they never did anymore. Patrick was their main concern, leaving no more for any worry about my well being.

Shaking my head I absentmindedly rubbed the back of my hand as I walked over to my bed to fetch my phone. I scrolled down though my contacts until the screen aluminates the name I was searching for.

_Alex Brandon _

Smiling I pressed talk and listened the annoying ringing noise.

"Hello?" His deep voice vibrated through the small speaker on my phone.

"Hey Alex, its Nina."

"Oh, hey babe. What's up?"

"Just another fight with my non-existent brother."

"Well then, sounds like you need some fun, am I right?"

I smiled bigger, "You guessed right."

"Awesome, meet in the in park in ten."

"I will."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

I snapped my phone shut and grabbed my dark hoodie before opening my window carefully. Not because I was worried about the noise alerting my birth makers, if it did they wouldn't give a damn, but because last time my pants got caught.

**TwilightHeart21 is truely an amazing person. I owe her more then anything. She is my beta for this story and also a wonderful friend on this site. You should really check out her work, it is mind blowing and beautiful.**

**Thanks for reading and please review. I need to know who wants to read more of this tale before i post another chapter.**


	2. I really am alone

**Disclaimer: I do not own twlight. **

**Welcome back readers. So, here is the second chapter as requested by a few readers. About 5 people reviewed, and i've decided that for the first time, i'm going to deicated a chapter to a few very awesome people. **

**A huge thank you goes out to the following amazing people: cheerleading847, ally leigh, Alice, TwilightHeart21 and laurazuleta18. **

**Enjoy!!**

"What do you mean you're… leaving, Alex?" I questioned again, my voice breaking when the painful word broke though my lips, _leaving_.

His eyes refused to look at my face, to see the trails of water stained skin that his simple statement caused. He shook his head slightly. "It means what it has always meant."

Cold and emotionless, he spoke as if he was announcing the color of his shirt, normal without huge meaning. Another stab of pain shot though my chest leaving me to gasp for the air it knotted out of my lungs.

"Wh-…why?" I asked. The sound of my voice was not strange to me. Broken and pleading notes rang though my question. Common tones for me over the past couple of weeks; it seems they have been used too much.

"I _have_ to Nina. I know there could not be a worse time for this, and I feel horrible that I am leaving right now, right when you need your best friend the most, but I have _no_ choice." Alex looked into my face. I saw my own pain mirrored in his eyes as he looked me over.

Stepping closer he raised a hand to rub my arm. Drops of salty water continued to fall down over my crumpled face. Closing the gap between us I cried into his chest and he hugged me close, rubbing my back and whispering promises of keeping in touch.

I wasn't being purely selfish in this matter. He explained the situation before breaking the news, before breaking me.

Alex is – and forever will be - my best friend. We have always been there for each other, through everything, never turning our backs on each other. I knew I could count on him to keep the promise of communication, but that only eased a small part of my pain.

We met in grade four. He wanted to use my glue stick but I said no. Alex then offered two pink colored pencils and a piece of gum for the glue. Loving the color pink, I accepted. Everything grew from there.

Friendships go through those two big shoulder crying moments and his came in junior high. The hints swirled around his head but he never analyzed them. The entire student body had a clue, but he was in denial, I suppose.

I remember the day he finally came out. It was two in the morning and my phone buzzed beneath my pillow, successfully waking me. I opened my phone to hear him wail, "I like Matt!!"

I was tried and his statement could be interpreted in so many ways my brain was confused. Naturally I responded, "Okay?"

Alex explained what he meant, he was gay.

It never has bothered me, it never will. He was still the same old Alex and it shouldn't have bothered anyone else, but of course, it did. I was the one he called after school when those jackasses wrote nasty words on his stuff or threw things at him.

I promised to always be there, through the glares and the taunting. I promised to kick anyone's ass that shouted one wrong name or gave him a dirty look. And I did. I was suspended five times in eighth grade for fighting and three times in grade nine.

His reason for leaving was all tied to that. His parents weren't aware of his ex-boyfriends and he intended for it to remain like that until he had a handle on everything. His plan failed, epically.

Jordan, his latest ex, ran into Alex's parents. They talked; nothing wrong there until Jordan asked how Alex was doing with the break up. His parents were confused, saying they never knew Alex had a girlfriend. Jordan laughed, seeing as Alex never did have a girlfriend, and causally informed his parents that he had just recently broken up with Alex.

To say the least, his parents were pissed. Their course of action to 'cleanse', not my choice of words, their son, was military school. On the other side of the country.

We stood huddled together for a long time. My fist clutching parts of his sweater as I cried harder, pulling him closer, wishing I never had to let go, never had to say goodbye. He stroked my back and kissed my hair, a few single tears falling onto my shirt.

"When do you leave?" I asked in small muffled voice, breaking the silence that hung between us.

"Two days." He whispered.

"And I came for the promise of fun." I taunted weakly.

"I know, honey. I'm so sorry. But I will always love you, through it all you stood next to me and I only wish I could repay the favor." He hugged me tighter and kissed my head again.

I cried harder. Wishing on every shooting star and praying to every known god, asking to please let him stay. Please, don't take away my only ray of light, only source of hope, only person who cares.

I can't say goodbye. Not to Alex. And I never will.

Pale light shone on my bare legs, raising goose bumps. I pretended not to notice the cold breeze of autumn air that swept through my room on occasion. I wanted nothing more then to stay in the exact position I settled into three hours ago.

The red digitally produced numbers relayed the message it was six in morning. A monotone voice was sure to attempt to rouse me from my non-existent slumber soon. My mother repeated that same action every school day at six fifteen, trying to play the role of a caring parental figure.

School was the last thing I wanted to waste my time on today. In fact, it was the worst idea possible.

There was a reason I had taped sheets over my walls and made sure most sources of light were hidden. I was avoiding any reminder of him that wandered along, any single thing that compelled me to race to his small house and beg on my knees for him to stay.

He asked me to refrain from doing so. Not to go after him. No matter how much it hurt because in the end it would only make it worse. I suppose he's right. It might make things worse but at least I would have tried, instead of crying into my worn blanket and cursing his parents, myself and society for not having the heart to accept everyone even when they are different.

Being a teenager, to adults, means that I am bound to be overdramatic about small things. I'd love to say I'm making this into something much bigger than it is, but honest to god I'm not.

Think about it for a second. If one day your brother, someone you loved with your _whole_ heart and trusted with your life no matter what, suddenly refused to talk to you, denied all your concern and shut you out of their life except for a few frustrated words. If on the same day your parents didn't take notice to you asking for help, didn't pay attention to your pleas and basically forgot your existence had some value.

For the fucking cherry on top of the screwed up cake, my best friend, the one I run to every time I feel like exploding from frustration, or I feel as if I am so unimportant I could disappear and no one would notice, is leaving. Going across the country.

Dramatic? Hell yeah. But those are the facts my friends.

"Coming!" I hollered towards the shut door, the source of the annoying tapping noise. I raced down the stairs, hoping to get whoever insisted on being let in gone before I had to engage in some form of friendly interaction.

I yanked the front door open with a huff. On the other side stood a man, he looked familiar but my fuzzy mind had no way of connecting that gorgeous face to one from my past.

Whoever this guy was, he just woke me up, and I was not very cheery.

"Can I help you?" I asked with a slight hint of acid in my voice.

"I'm looking for Patrick, is he available?" He spoke with grace, the words floating from his mouth with perfect pronunciation.

I shook my head. "Nope, he is not." I mumbled. I didn't bother looking at the stranger after the first glance, my eyes glued to the pavement beneath my bare feet.

His deep, heavy sigh seemed to carry a string of emotion. "Well, I apologize for bothering you then." Heavy foot steps followed his statement.

My mind was screaming for me to stop him, ask him who he was and why he came. The way he spoke, the sound of the hidden emotion in his voice reflected what I had been feeling. How could someone else understand what I was feeling?

I wanted to know what tie he had to do with Patrick. Taking a deep breath I lifted my eyes to see him climbing into a car. "Wait!" I called out to him.

He stopped reaching to close his door and turned to face me. I opened my mouth but closed it again when words failed me. I shook my head and turned to go back into my house.

I am being stupid; wishing that I belonged in some Disney movie and that when everyone left me some savior would come along just when the day seemed darkest. He would be understanding and console me until I felt safe. But, that stuff just doesn't happen.

Tires screeched down the road as the car raced away. I leaned against the closed door for support, letting a few stray tears fall.

I really am alone.

Left to wallow in my own darkness.

No light to guide me back.

**Now, TwilightHeart21 - mentioned at the top already- has proven once again how mind blowing she is as a beta - for this story, a writer - i've been addicting to her writting for a long time, I adore all her work - and as a friend. Another huge thanks goes out to her, i owe you sweetie.**

**You know the drill, review to let me know if you wanna kept reading. Trust me, Nina's ride is far from over. **

**Thanks for reading and please review!  
Swimming cutie xoxo**


	3. Pretend I’m nothing

**Disclamier: I do not own twilight**

**Welcome back readers. Sorry about the delay in updates for this story. Exams are coming up soon so sadly my time will be consumed with trying to make it out alive. I will try my best to write on ever occasion but once exams are over, i promise, every story will be updated!!!**

**On that note, thank you dearly to everyone who reviewed!! I love you all but as always, more reviews would be wonderful! Let me know what you think of Nina, because shes about to do some things that parents worry their childern will do. I warn you, her world is getting darker, and shes falling further into a place where her actions don't matter.**

**But, please read on. Let me show you the world of a pack sibling gone wrong.**

* * *

"God, could Nina be anymore anti-social?" Tiffany asked her followers.

"I hear her drug problem got so bad that she now works as a prostitute in Port Angles." Chloe added.

"Looks like her brother heard too. He avoids her like the plague. Could you blame him? I mean, she would only drag him down too." Sandra commented.

"I bet he joined that gang just to get away from her slutty-ness." Tiffany shot a look in the direction Patrick was sitting.

Chloe and Sandra nodded in agreement. Scoffing under my breath I ducked my head and pretended not to hear their useless, purely rumor-filled gossip. I'd heard it all before. Every single word heard about me in this school was fake. Made up, so the student population had something to talk about besides the weather.

My life was no secret. Everyone knew that I was alone, had no one left. Instead of being sympathetic or even offering to ask what was wrong, they took my own personal hell as the perfect chance to get some juicy gossip spread.

I looked up from my untouched food and gazed across the lunch room. La Push High never did have cliques, per say, but we did have groups. First table to my left is where the rumor generators themselves sat, including Chloe, Sandra and Tiffany.

Beside that table you have the sports people. The guys and girls who live for one sport and enjoy obsessively talking about it.

Next to them are the art freaks. I know, it sounds very ignorant of me to entitle them freaks because they like art, but trust me on this one; I was not the first one to call them that. In fact, they came up with the name and demanded that everyone call them by it.

In the far corner there is the bubble that no one dares enter. That happens to be where Patrick's new gang eats. Or rather downs enough food for fifteen African countries in the span of ten minutes. That table isn't just populated by giants though; you also have the tiny girls that hang off them every chance possible.

And to my right was the table filled with the hardest working students here, in high school language, the geeks/nerds. I watched them for a second. Searching their faces, seeing the glee that was spread across their smiling faces, I wanted nothing more then be apart of the emotional atmosphere.

I shook my head and turned to look away but one face reached out and grabbed my attention with force. Blinking rapidly I looked again. It was him. The guy who came to my house yesterday looking for Patrick.

Sitting alone was something that always bothered me but right now it seemed like a blessing. I ducked my head before he could see me staring. My mind registered his emotions beforehand though.

He face didn't belong at that table. They all laughed, with giant carefree smiles, but his eyes, they were fixated on a spot I knew all too well. Lingering on the lonesome table with eyes that cried out for acceptance and attention, and yet, he got nothing short of silence.

I fought the urge to glance at his pain filled face again. Looking past the sorrow and rejection I could see the beauty underneath.

Any other time I might have tried to befriend this sad boy, cheer him or at least discover the reason behind his pain. But now, I only watched from across the room. My mind noted quietly that I am not the only one Patrick discarded.

And that makes me feel not so alone.

****************

"Dinner Nina." My mother's emotionless voice called up to me.

"Coming." I replied.

Shifting I gathered up all my homework and stuffed it back in my backpack. Standing up, I neatly remade my bed and prepared myself for a quiet dinner. No one ever talked. There was no reason to.

When Patrick didn't grace us with his presence, the tension was enough to suffocate me until I was finally finished.

But tonight, he was generous and came to dinner. The regular tension was there, but escalated.

Chatter vibrated off the walls of the normal silent kitchen. Not a single word of it directed towards me. Why waste their breath when they felt the need to make sure every single detail was to Patrick's liking?

"Is the meat too cold?"

"Are your potatoes mashed enough?"

"Do you need more water?"

"Is it too warm in here?"

"If it is too warm, we can lessen the amount of body heat in the house."

That body heat they spoke of getting rid of was more than likely me. I squished every urge to roll my eyes and scoff at every question they posed.

Was I honestly nothing more then a source of excessive body heat to them? Did I matter that little to my own parents?

A knife in the heart, the feeling of being ripped apart by the very seems that always held me together. I refused to cry in front of them, in front of _him_.

Patrick didn't even glance my way. Didn't bother to ask how my day was, or if I was okay.

If I broke down crying at this table, none of them would even blink. I was just another pile of useless flesh. Shoving my uneaten food away from me I pushed away from the table in disgust.

Blinking back tears of rage I threw my plate in the sink, hoping, praying, for a reaction. Anything that showed they noticed my existence. Silence was the only thing that followed. Shaking my head I stormed out of the room.

Reaching the stairs in a few seconds with the full intention of bounding up them to my room so I could cry myself to sleep. I didn't get that far because someone had the gull to knock on the door.

I may be invisible in my house when it comes to feelings, but I am still expected to do the small things. Answering doors fell into that category. I should have just ignored it and kept on going. Of course, I didn't.

A small voice insisted it was possible that the boy from school was behind the door. Knocking, waiting to see Patrick. I scolded myself mentally as the thought entered my mind, but I couldn't deny the truth.

To see the pain in his eyes was comfort. I needed it more then oxygen right now. I wanted, needed to see that someone else was feeling as alone and disgruntled as I.

I yanked the door open. Disappointment rang through my veins as I took in the large frame that filled the door. Rage replaced it the second the face registered in my mind. It was one of them.

Jared, to be exact.

He nodded to me and in a husky voice said, "I need to speak with Patrick."

"Good for you." I responded with as much sarcasm as possible. I finally had a release for my rage; I was not letting this pass me by. "But not good for him right? Or has your mind trick worked? Does he follow your every command like you want? A lap dog? Taking away his free will must be fun; I've seen you do it to countless teenagers. Suck them into your stupid cult-like gang. Take them away from their families without so much as a spare thought."

He opened his mouth to say something but I was far from done with him.

"What? Trying to defend yourself? _Don't even_. I bet you'll just laugh about my outrage and pain later, eh? At least someone gets something good out of my sad excuse of an existence." My voice got louder, filled with the very emotion I had kept under wraps for too long.

"You took _everything_ from me you son of a bitch!" I screamed at him. Rage fueling my actions I reached to my left, gasping the vase that was placed on the front table. I whipped it at him, "You had no right, and you still ruined my life and you don't even _care_!"

Salty drops of water fell into my mouth as I screamed profanities at him. Shattered pieces of vase lay at my feet but I got some satisfaction, when I noticed the small shards that had dug into his chest.

My yells were caught off when Patrick stepped in front of me.

"Stop." He said it as if it was an order. I said nothing; just let the tears stream down my face. Patrick just looked at Jared. Both walked out the door without so much as a word.

Slamming the door behind them I looked around. My parents were still seated at the kitchen table… eating pie.

My temper exploded.

I didn't see red like in every cliché book or movie. I was seething mad at _everyone_. I'd lost control of my own life. I'm done playing the innocent quiet girl.

I stormed into the kitchen and stood beside the sink.

"Would you look at me?" I demanded, hissing each word. Neither parent looked up from their plates. Huffing in disbelief I let my angry take over and make my decisions for me.

Reaching into the sink I grabbed a dirty plate. Looking at it for a second I threw it at the ground with all my force. My focus was on my parents, waiting to see if they looked, or even cursed under their breath.

Nothing.

"Ignore me then." I screamed and smashed another plate. And another. I kept going until I was standing in a pile of smashed porcelain shards. My face was covered in tears, my feet bleeding onto the floor from the pieces that imbedded themselves in my skin.

"Pretend I'm nothing."

My voice was small, frightened and broken. I felt like a little girl, scared by a nightmare. Only this was the part were the mommy or daddy ran into comfort me. Hug me, wipe away my tears and mutter promises that every thing was fine.

My parents just stared at the floor. Not even bothering to watch their daughter die in front of them.

Physically I lived, I breathed. But inside I was dead.

Why keep living when no will notice if you stop?

* * *

**And there you have Nina's first act of violence. **

**Alright, you may have noticed that at the end of every chapter i post to this wonderful site, i credit one person, every single time. If you have not noticed, then just play along. TwilightHeart21. I assume you've seen her name before, and now relate it to the capivating stories she writes and how amazing of a person she is. Thank you sweetie, i owe you more then you could ever know :)**

**Please review. I am offering a reward for every reviewer!! If you kindly leave me a review, i will send in the reply the next moment Blake appears in Nina's story!! Its cute, i promise. So review and that little timbit of fluff could be yours!!!**

**Thanks for reading and REVIEW! :p **


	4. Is my life a game to someone?

**Disclaimer: I do not own twilight.**

**First off, i am so so sorry about the delay in my update!!! I had exams so my life was filled with boring subjects and no free time but i am back. Sorry again, you all deserve better. **

**Also, i'm sure you've heard of this girl before but i need to mention her as much as possible so everyone gets the chance to read her awesome writing. TwilightHeart21. She is the beta for this story and a good friend of mine. I owe her everything, so thank you so much sweetie!**

**Enjoy chapter four!**

"I'm worried about you Nina."

Those words _should_ be music to my ears. The small ray of hope I have been praying for since my life went downhill.

But they are being said by the wrong person; my math teacher Mrs. Wright.

I nodded, still playing the part of an innocent girl who had no idea where this concern came from.

"Being a teenage girl can be hard, I know. But you are perfect the way you are." She insisted, taking my hand into hers.

My confusion was real this time. What was she going on about? Perfect?

"No matter how bad it seems you don't need to isolate yourself from others." She said.

"I'm not following." I hinted

"Sweetie," and cue the creepy pet names, "being a teenager can be hard. But resorting to obstructive behavior will solve nothing."

"And what actions do you count as obstructive behavior Mrs. Wright?" My tone was defensive; I pulled my hand away to cross my arms over my chest.

"Speaking out of turn, not hiding your extreme dislike for other students, and even acting upon those emotions."

I stared her down, "What actions have I taken Mrs. Wright?" I sneered her name, challenging her account.

"I am speaking about the several times you have disrespected those students, said some rather nasty words and even used mild violence." Mrs. Wright replied, stepping up to my challenge with grace.

"Okay, do I look stupid? You think that I am lacking enough IQ to actually try a violent action on those douche bags?"

Since you enter primary you are taught to never speak to an adult in a disrespected manner. I lost all those wonderful teachings and programmed manners when the adults started ignoring my existence.

"Nina! Those harsh words will not be tolerated. I was in no way questioning your intelligence and I will not be spoken to as if I was a child." Authority rang though her voice, the tone I would normally back down after but I was too fired up to give a shit.

"Harsh? Those aren't even close to everything they deserve to be called. And don't say you weren't questioning my intelligence," I mocked with air quotations, "No one, with the exception of a few dipshits, would ever lay a finger on those beats."

She shook her head but dismissed my comments, "I did not mean the man of that group, but more the woman."

A laughed bubbled to the surface as I understood what she meant. The bimbos who insisted on hanging off the douche bags like their lives were intertwined. I suppose there were a few times they got pencils thrown at them from across the room, or 'accidently' shoved full forced into the walls or doors.

"This is no laughing matter Ms. Ricci. Those girls did not deserve what you did." She defended. Eyes pleading for understanding.

"Deserve? They didn't deserve?!" My tone was getting close to that of someone being told that even though someone killed their loved one, they had no right to harm that person. In essence, I suppose that is my situation. Patrick may be breathing but he's not alive.

"Yes, that is what I said. Unless, you have something to contradict me I think we are done here."

"How about the fact that those wonderful students you seem so fond of…" I trailed off, stopping myself before I dug up the very emotions I am trying to hide. "Never mind, what I did was wrong and I will refrain from doing so again."

Mrs. Wright smiled and nodded. "Glad to hear it Nina."

Pressing down the urge to laugh in her un-knowing face I forced a part smile. I walked out of the room as fast as my feet would allow. I knew I was close to breaking, and frankly, I am getting tried of bearing my sole to people when they can't help or refuse to listen.

I stormed though the halls. Knocking into whoever was close enough.

My eyes pricked with tears but my clenched fists ached with fury.

I want to curl up into a ball and cry. Cry for everything that has happened. For my brother, he tries to hide behind the blank expressions but I can see right through to the confusion, the sense of lost and worse, the undeniable pain.

For my parents, their silence, knowing that maybe they didn't mean to make me this alone, that maybe for some reason, this was their way of caring.

My fury came from a different direction.

I want to scream at my brother for being so god damn stupid. For letting those people take his life away and not fight for it.

I want to scream at my parents, demand to know why they treated me like this. Know how they let me fall though the cracks without trying to stop me; save me.

And last, the main source of my entire collection of wrath, I wanted to scream, throw things and inflect on them the same emotions so coldly threw at me. All of them, every single one of those overgrown men, I wanted nothing more then an explanation but they refused to even speak with me. Denied me access to my own _family_.

My hands shot out to protect my face from the fast approaching floor. Reacting to the fact I was falling though the air without recollection of why I was no longer standing. My palms slammed into the cool floor with force, small shock waves zapped up my arm.

My nose barely grazed the surface under me; my face hovered above the filthy ground. Breathing a small sigh of relief, a bloody nose was not something I was capable of dealing with at the moment, I pushed myself into a sitting position.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry!" A deep voice said to me.

I ignored them; it wasn't hard to guess they were faking the concern. Everyone would in this situation. You knock someone down you feel the need to apologize, as if some how that made it okay.

Cursing I stopped inspecting my palms to tug lightly on the shred of random glass that decided to imbed itself in my skin. A stream of red flowed as I moved the piece in a circular motion, hoping to dislodge the sharp point. No luck.

"Oh, that doesn't look too good." The same voice commented.

Chewing the inside of my cheek I clamped down the sarcastic comments wanting to burst though. Sucking a deep breath though my nose I reminded myself that this person had more then likely not contributed to my never ending dooms day.

"Sorry about running into you." I trailed off as I got my first glance at my fellow student on the ground.

Is my life a game to someone? Did they enjoy putting me in these situations?

They must. Of course I bumped into and knocked over none other then my own mystery man. Wonderful.

I quickly jumped to my feet, preparing to make a quick getaway before he remembered my face.

"Wait," a hand clamped gently around my arm as I turned to escape. "You're Patrick's sister right?"

Wriggling out of his hold I curtly replied. "Yes."

My answer seemed to have stunned him. He blankly stared at me, searching my face for something. I leaned further away from him, not wanting to talk. We only had one thing in common, caring about Patrick, the very topic I would chew my own leg off to avoid. It was bound to come up.

Smiling politely I waved to him. He returned the gesture after a few seconds, taking it as my chance I turned to leave.

Walking at a speed close to jogging I dodged my way though the crowded hallways, leaving as much space between as I saw fit.

My throbbing hand steered me in the direction of the nurse's office. The pain was no issue; the sensation was bizarre, but not wrong. That scared me. Humans naturally have an aversion to pain, we tend to remove any source of it but that instinct was lost to me.

I've heard of people who cut, I've seen them, even talked to a few. Their scares aren't out for the world to admire. Quite the contrary, they are concealed beneath layers of clothes, not revealed to anyone who might judge or fear them.

Pushing though the nurse's door I vowed to myself I would not resort to those tactics. No matter how right the pain felt. I do not need an exterior marker of internal suffering.

I would not give my parents or brother the satisfaction of seeing how they affected me.

They wanted to play the stoic card, well might as well make it a family game.

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